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Ah, hell. She was going to have to see him sooner or later. And hiding wasn't her thing.
But when she got to the bottom of the staircase and stepped off onto the foyer's mosaic floor, she realized she'd forgotten to put any shoes on. How could she go into the king and queen's dining room with bare feet?
She looked back up at the second floor and became utterly exhausted. Too tired to go up and come down again, too embarrassed to go forward, she just listened to the sounds of the meal: Male and female voices chatted and laughed. A wine bottle was uncorked with a pop. Someone thanked Fritz for bringing out more lamb.
She looked down at her naked feet, thinking she was such a fool. A shattered fool. She was lost because of what the lesser had done to her. And shaky because of what she'd seen Zsadist do tonight. And so alone after realizing what she felt for that male.
She was about to throw in the towel and go back upstairs when something brushed against her leg. She jumped and looked down, meeting the jade green eyes of a black cat. The feline blinked, purred at her, and rubbed its head against the skin of her ankle.
Bending at the waist, she stroked its fur with unsteady hands. The animal was incomparably elegant, all lean lines and graceful, sliding movements. And for no good reason, her eyes got blurry. The more emotional she got, the closer she and the cat became, until she was sitting on the last step of the staircase and the animal had crawled into her lap.
"His name is Boo."
Bella gasped and looked up. Phury was standing in front of her, a towering male no longer dressed in war clothes, but now in cashmere and wool. He had a napkin in his hand, as if he'd just gotten up from the table, and he smelled really good, like he'd recently showered and shaved. Staring at him, she became aware that all the talk and sounds of eating had bled from the air, leaving a silence that told her everyone knew she'd come downstairs and gotten stuck on the periphery.
Phury knelt down and pressed his linen napkin into her hand. Which was how she realized there were tears running down her cheeks.
"Won't you come join us?" he said softly.
She blotted her face while still holding on to the cat. "Any chance I can take him in with me?"
"Absolutely. Boo is always welcome at our table. And so are you."
"I don't have shoes on."
"We don't care." He held out his hand. "Come on, Bella. Come join us."
Zsadist walked into the foyer, so cold and stiff he shuffled along. He'd wanted to stay until the very dawn at the farmhouse, but his body hadn't fared well in the frigid air.
Even though he wasn't going to eat, he headed for the dining room, only to stop in the shadows. Bella was at the table, sitting next to Phury. There was a plate of food in front of her, but she was paying more attention to the cat in her lap. She was petting Boo, and didn't miss a stroke as she looked up at something Phury said. She smiled, and when her head dropped again, Phury's eyes stayed on her profile as if he were drinking her in.
Z walked quickly over to the stairs, not about to fall into that scene. He was almost free when Tohr emerged from the hidden door below the first landing. The brother looked grim, but then he never was a party.
"Hey, Z, hold up."
Zsadist cursed, and not under his breath. He had no interest in getting waylaid by some policy-and-procedure shit, and that was all Tohr talked about lately. The guy was cracking down on the Brotherhood, organizing shifts, trying to turn four loose cannons like V, Phury, Rhage, and Z into soldiers. No wonder he always looked like his head hurt.
"Zsadist, I said, wait."
"Not now - "
"Yeah, now. Bella's brother sent a request to Wrath. Asking that she be assigned sehculsion status with him as her whard."
Oh, shit. If that happened, Bella was as good as gone. Hell, she was as good as luggage. Not even the Brotherhood could keep her from her whard.
"Z? Did you hear what I said?"
Nod your head, ass**le, he told himself .
He barely managed a chin dip. "But why are you telling me this?"
Tohr's mouth tightened. "You want to front like she's nothing to you? Fine. Just thought you'd want to know."
Tohr headed for the dining room.
Z gripped the banister and rubbed his chest, feeling like someone had replaced the oxygen in his lungs with tar. He looked up the stairs and wondered if Bella would come back to his room before she left. She would have to, because her diary was there. She could leave her clothes behind, but not that journal. Unless, of course, she'd moved out already.
God... How would he tell her good-bye?
Man, there was one conversation to bail on. He couldn't imagine what he'd say to her, especially after she'd seen him do his nasty magic all over that slayer.
Z went into the library, picked up one of the phones there, and dialed Vishous's cell number by its pattern on the buttons. He heard the ring through the receiver as well as from across the foyer. When V answered, he told the Brother about the Explorer and the cell phone and the undercarriage antics.
"I'm on it," V said. "But where are you? There's a funky echo on the phone."
"Call me if that car moves. I'll be in the gym." He hung up and headed for the underground tunnel.
He figured he could scrounge up some clothes down in the locker room and run himself into a state of utter depletion. When his thighs were screaming and his calves had turned to stone and his throat was sore from the gasping, the pain would clear his mind, cleanse him... He craved the hurt more than he craved food.
When he got to the locker room, he went to the cubicle assigned to him and pulled out his Air Shod and a pair of running shorts. He preferred going shirtless anyway, especially if he was alone.
He'd disarmed and was about to strip down when he heard something moving around the lockers. Tracking the sound in silence, he stepped out into the path of - a half-pint stranger.
There was a metal bang as that little body slammed into one of the locker banks.
Shit. It was the kid. What was his name? John something.
And John-boy looked as if he was going to faint as he stared up with bugged-out, glassy eyes.
Z glared down from his full height. His mood was utterly vicious at the moment, black and cold as space, and yet somehow, ripping the kid a new ass**le for doing nothing wrong wasn't appealing.
"Get out of here, kid."
John fumbled with something. A pad and pen. As he put the two together, Z shook his head.
"Yeah, I don't read, remember? Look, just go. Tohr's up at the house."
Z turned away and yanked off his shirt. When he heard a gasp, he looked over his shoulder. John's eyes were on his back.
"Christ, kid... get the f**k out of here."
As Z heard the patter of feet leaving, he ditched his pants, threw on the black soccer shorts, and sat on the bench. He picked his Nikes up by the laces and let them dangle between his knees. As he stared at the running shoes, he had some stupid thought about how many times he'd shoved his feet into them and punished his body on the very treadmill he was headed for. Then he thought about how many times he'd deliberately gotten himself hurt in fights with the lessers. And how many times he'd asked Phury to beat him.
No, not asked. Demanded. There had been times when he'd demanded that his twin hit him over and over again until his scarred face swelled up and the pounding ache in his bones was all he knew. In truth, he didn't like having Phury involved. He'd have preferred the pain to be private and would have done the damage himself if he'd been able to. But it was hard to coldcock yourself with any force.
Z slowly lowered the running shoes to the floor and leaned back against the locker, thinking about where his twin was. Up in the dining room. Next to Bella.
His eyes drifted to the phone that was mounted on the locker room wall. Maybe he should call up to the house.
A low whistle sounded right next to him. He flipped his eyes to the left and frowned.
The kid was there with a water bottle in his hand, and he came forward tentatively, his arm stretched way out in front of him, his head tilted away. Kind of like he was cozying up to a panther and hoped to leave the experience with his limbs still attached.
John placed the Poland Spring bottle about three feet from Z on the bench. Then he turned and ran away.
Z stared at the door the kid tore out of. As the thing eased shut, he thought about other doors in the compound. The front ones of the mansion, specifically.
God. Bella would be leaving soon, too. She might even be leaving now.
Right this very minute.
